


Blackheart

by jacinth



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cat & Mouse, Detective Louis, Flashbacks, Harry likes fire, Louis has strange hobbies, Louis is reckless, M/M, Murder, Not Quite Mystery, Obsession, Older Harry, Rich Harry, only by three years, so does Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacinth/pseuds/jacinth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, Louis. What brings you out? Don't you know there's a serial killer on the loose?” Something in Harry's voice sounded as if he were holding back a laugh.</p><p>Louis shrugged. “I'm not a prostitute.” </p><p>Or</p><p>Louis is a detective whose past comes back to haunt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackheart

**Author's Note:**

> I found this on my computer and it was almost finished so I thought, why not.

Louis had always had a fascination with serial killers. Others found it a tad bit odd but he didn't care, devouring every book, online article and documentary he could get his hands on, even becoming a detective so he could go even deeper, find out what made them tick and why.

But, just like everyone said it would, his obsession had lead him to trouble.

Louis picked up the envelope on his desk; hands shaking as he opened it. He had just been assigned the biggest murder case in London history and this tiny piece of paper frightened him more than anything he had seen in the case files.

It had all started ten years ago.

**-:-**

Louis Tomlinson was a normal teenager – or as normal as any teenager could be – what set him apart was his insatiable curiosity for all things. Thing that would send other people running, things that _anyone_ with a sense of self-preservation would avoid. He wasn't talking about sex, drugs and alcohol. No, he had no time for such trivial bullshit. What really got his blood pumping was danger, not the 'oh I might break something' kind of danger, but the 'fuck I might die' kind. It all stemmed from childhood, he knew. His father, his good for nothing git of a deadbeat father had been murdered, gutted and dismembered like the dog he was. Instead of feeling fear and sadness, seven year old Louis had only felt grateful, maybe even wished he had been there to watch it all happen, to hear the agony induced screams.

And thus his obsession had began.

At age nine he was precocious enough to go to the library on his own since it was only down the street, his mum never questioned it, happy her son had taken such a keen interest in literature at such a young age. There he read everything he could on Jack The Ripper, The Angel Maker, The Muswell Hill Murderer, The Yorkshire Ripper, The Stockwell strangler and many others, though, American serial killers didn't interest him much, with the exception of one, H.H. Holmes. Their crimes both disgusted and mesmerized the small boy and one would think such things would cause nightmares and when Louis hit puberty, he sometimes wished to God they did. What he got instead were dreams of darkness, screams, and someones hands on his body. It had only escalated from there until he was regularly dreaming of a faceless man in black fucking him while they were surrounded by his victims and it had worried Louis for a time, made him wonder if there was something wrong with him, there had to be, right?

Those days had long passed and he now told himself they were only dreams and they could not hurt anyone.

Then, a few months after Louis turned seventeen he had picked up the paper – something he'd done for years – and saw the front page headlines. They caught his attention immediately and he began reading about the murders of both Male and Female prostitutes in London. Each strangled with piano wire and branded; tiny birds burned into the skin over the heart and they were on every body. It was official, London had a serial killer on it's hands, and that excited Louis more than it should have.

Which was how he'd ended up talking his friend Zayn into going to London for the weekend. They had told their mums they were going to see a concert but when they arrived both boys checked into their room and immediately went their separate ways; Zayn going to meet his girlfriend who lived in the city while Louis stayed in until dark.

He knew it was stupid, beyond reckless, and completely mental, but that's what gave him the thrill and that night Louis found himself walking the streets alone. He wasn't sure what he expected to find, or what he wanted to happen – he hoped he didn't get murdered, okay, he was sure he wouldn't get murdered because he wasn't the killer's usual type of target, and if he was, well, that was why he had a switchblade in his boot.

**-:-**

Two hours of walking in the shadows later and Louis had come up with nothing. Not a goddamn thing! He supposed he should be relieved that he hadn't been murdered but come on, not even a scream echoing through the dark? 

Annoyed and more than a little disappointed, Louis fished his fake ID out of his back pocked and walked down the street to the club.  
  
It was dark and crowded inside and the air was thick with perfumes and colognes, Louis decided he wouldn't stay long - there would be a mini bar back in his room so he ordered a rum and coke. He was half way through when a tingling sensation ran through him – the kind one only got when they were being watched. Scanning the room, Louis didn't notice anyone looking at him so he went back to his drink. The tingling didn't go away. A few minutes later, Louis looked up toward the bar, and directly in his line of vision, stood a tall boy. He was dressed almost too well for the club and stood out like a sore thumb in a white dress shirt and a tight fitted black vest, his long legs encased in black almost skintight pants and Louis' mouth may have watered a little – something that had never happened to him before.  
  
Blushing, Louis turned his attention back to his drink and tried to enjoy the rhythmic thump of the music. When he looked up again, the guy was in front of him. “Hello.”

What. Why was this guy talking to him? “Hi.”

The guy smiled and whoa. Dimples. And now that Louis could see him better under the lights, he saw the curls and... the guy had the face of an angel. “I'd offer to buy you a drink but...”  
  
“I-I'm not much of a drinker.”

“You're too young.” he finished, smiling at Louis.

How did he know? “I'll have you know I'm nineteen.”  
  
The guy raised an eyebrow and moved his tongue and jaw as if he were chewing but Louis recognized it as a tick of amusement. “In what, two, three years?”  
  
“I. I don't believe that's any of your concern.” Louis sniffed, he realized he sounded like a snob but he did not care. Standing, Louis left his drink and pushed past the guy, intending to make his way to the Exit when a hand gripped his wrist.

“I wasn't trying to be rude. Do I look like someone who gives a shit about the law?”  
  
Louis looked at the guy's expensive clothing and raised a brow. “Actually, you look like someone who has run amok with daddy's credit card.”  
  
Something flashed in the guy's eyes then, something dangerous and goosebumps raised all over Louis' skin but in the next second it was gone. “Now who's being rude?”  
  
“Did you just quote Titanic?”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
Anyone who quoted Titanic was okay in Louis' book. He sighed, sitting back down and gesturing for the guy to join him. “I'm Harry.”  
  
Harry. Harry. If someone had mentioned a Harry to Louis an hour earlier he automatically would have though of some goof or The Prince. Harry suited the guy. “Louis.”  
  
“So, Louis. What brings you out? Don't you know there's a serial killer on the loose?” Something in Harry's voice sounded as if he were holding back a laugh.  
  
Louis shrugged. “I'm not a prostitute.”

Harry tilted his head. “Know a lot about this subject then?”

“I know enough.”  
  
“You're not 21 Jump Street-ing are you?”  
  
Louis laughed then, “God no. I doubt I could pull that off.”  
  
“That's exactly what someone who was undercover would say.”  
  
Without thinking Louis lifted his shirt, baring his soft middle – he didn't know why, he'd always been self-conscious. “Do these look the abs of a cop?”

When he didn't receive an answer, he looked up to find Harry staring at his skin as if he might devour it, or tear it to pieces, maybe both. Quickly dropping the hem of this jumper, Louis cleared his throat. “Point made.”

“Lot's of cops are fat and do nothing but eat donuts and walk around like they're doing something important.” Harry shrugged.  
  
All Louis heard was the word 'fat'. “Excuse me?”  
  
Harry's eyes widened. “No no! I didn't mean you were fat. I was simply stating that there are cops a lot less fit than you are so your lovely middle isn't really a reason-”  
  
“Harry!”  
  
Harry's mouth snapped shut.  
  
“I know what you meant.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Glad you think I'm lovely though.” Louis blushed.  
  
“You are?”  
  
Shit. “Well, everyone likes to be thought of as... lovely, do they not?”  
  
Leaning back, Harry sipped his own drink before answering. “You don't strike me as particularly vain, Louis.”

“That's because I'm not.” Louis hummed. “Can't say the same about you I'm afraid.”

That look snapped back into Harry's eyes once more and Louis cursed his mouth.  
  
“A bloke can't look nice without being vain?” Harry asked in a tight voice. Louis got the feeling he didn't like being ridiculed.  
  
“Everyone is at least a tad bit vain, Harry. Even me. If I weren't, I'd be wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.”  
  
Snorting out a laugh, Harry smirked at him. “I doubt it would make you any less attractive.”

Biting his lip, Louis sat back not really knowing what to say. He hated awkward silences, Jesus.

“Wanna get out of here?”  
  
Louis stared at him. The nerve of some people!   
  
“There's a coffee house across the road, open all night, best tarts in England.” Harry said persuasively.

Well, as long as Harry didn't think he was getting lucky, and even if he did, Louis would totally say no.

 **-:-**  
  
Two hours later they were still sat in the warm little shop, laughing and talking, discussing their lives. As it turned out, Louis was right, Harry came from a wealthy family but enjoyed this part of London more than the uppity side, 'so much easier' he'd said, whatever that meant. Louis told Harry a few things but left out his fascination with serial killers – this was the first guy he'd ever liked and he wasn't about to scare him away with his weirdness just yet. Before tonight, Louis couldn't have told anyone if he preferred guys or girls if they'd asked, now though, he was quite certain he liked men, or maybe just Harry?

When they left, Harry offered to drive Louis back to his hotel and he gladly accepted, not wanting to take a taxi, but when they arrived, Louis realized his room key was missing. 

He had nearly spiralled into panic – he knew it could be easily sorted but he wasn't sure he could calmly explain without flipping out. The caffeine had really done it's job and Louis would probably be kicked out for throwing a tantrum if asked too many questions. Harry must have sensed his uneasiness and invited him back to his flat, promising to bring him straight back in the morning – it was morning – when he _woke_ so he could sort everything out. Louis had spent the last six hours with Harry and was sorely tempted to take up his offer but he'd only just met him.  
  
When Louis gave voice to his thoughts Harry merely laughed, “I'm not gonna smother you in your sleep, Lou.”

In the end, Louis agreed. A stupid move? Maybe. But people went home with strangers to do a lot more than sleep all the time, right?

**-:-**

Louis lied in the bed in the guest room, wondering what the hell he was doing. He didn't see himself as an idiotic person, though his going home with someone he barely knew was quite questionable, but Harry was probably one of the sweetest people Louis had ever met, like the Fawn from Narnia.

Louis' eyes flew open. The fawn from Narnia kidnapped Lucy. Once that thought cross his mind it was followed by a thousand others, Harry's dad was the killer, Harry was a rapist, Harry was a cannibal... the list went on and on until he worked himself up. He would never get any sleep. Even though he knew he was being paranoid, he had to go back to the hotel, he had to. Perhaps he'd leave his number and a note saying the friend he had came with texted him in a panic.  
  
Slipping out of the bed, Louis took a moment to write Harry a quick note then quietly crept across the floor to where his shoes and coat lay, before practically tiptoeing through the flat.

Just as he was about to turn the handle on the door a 'snick' sound had him whipping around. It was dark except for the flame of a lighter, he realized then what had made the sound.

“Going somewhere?” Harry asked, looking from the flame to Louis.  
  
“My friend, Zayn, the boy I came to London with, texted me. He's worried and I'll never be able to sleep now so, I thought I'd go....”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
“I-I wrote you note.”  
  
“That was very considerate.” Harry hummed, eyes focused on the flame again. Couldn't he have just turned a light on?  
  
“Well, um...” Louis swallowed, a strange feeling came over him, almost like a chill. “T-thank-you, for everything. I hope I see you again.”  
  
Louis reached for the door-handle, It didn't budge. His fingers searched for the lock but he felt nothing so he reached for the light-switch next to the door, lighting the room up yet still, there was no lock.

“It's controlled.” Harry stated, sounding almost bored, and the chill grew worse.  
  
Louis turned to ask him if he'd kindly unlock it when he finally took notice of what Harry was doing. He was holding the flame over a ring on his index finger and staring at the flame as if he were in a trance.  
  
“Don't do that!” Louis huffed, moving closer, “You'll burn yourself.”  
  
Harry's eyes snapped to his. “So?”

The flame went out and Louis looked down at the ring.

Tiny birds.

Louis' eyes widened and he darted around a chair, moving toward the window, hoping to God there was a fire escape. He didn't make it ten steps before something warm crashed into his back, arms wound around him, constricting his arms.

“You think you're the first to have tried that?” Harry whispered in his ear.

“It's you.” Louis accused, a little pissed that he hadn't seen it. Serial killers had been his hobby since he was nine for Christs sake. “Figures.”  
  
The arms around him slackened for a moment in what Louis would guess to be shock, but when he tried to move, they constricted again. “Figures?”

“Yeah. Figures the first guy I've ever liked turns out to be a serial killer. But I guess I should have expected it, given my hobbies. Hey!” Louis wriggled. “You can't kill me I don't fit your victim profile.”

The arms loosened again. “What.”

“You only kill prostitutes which, I sort of get, I mean who needs them spreading disease, but what I don't get is why, you're so young.” No. He did not really think that. But hello! Talking to a murderer here.

“What?” Harry said again, sounding confused.

Louis sighs. “You're only twenty. You should be... I don't know throwing parties and seducing people, getting your Chuck Bass on. That face is too nice to be hidden behind bars.” 

Suddenly Louis was spun around, his back hitting the wall and knocking the wind out of him as Harry crowded him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Are you not the serial killer?”

Harry frowned. “I thought that was obvious. What I meant was, why aren't you scared? You're more talkative now than before you knew.”

“I-I don't know.” he really didn't. “I feel – felt, safe with you. If you're going to kill me, just do it.”

The breath on his face slowed, and Louis shivered as lips slid across his cheek.

“What if I want to keep you?”

“What if you let me go, and I don't tell a soul about you?”

Louis yelped as he was shoved against the wall again, but before Harry could do something rash, he reached up, tangling his fingers in the taller boy's hair and pulling his mouth down to meet his own.

Everything went fuzzy after that.

**-:-**

And here Louis sat, ten years later, tossing the envelope aside to reveal the note inside.

  
 **Miss Me?** **-H**

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might add another chapter to this when I have time - I'm neck deep in writing the next parts to my other stories right now.
> 
> Comments welcome! xo.


End file.
